


Non-Regulation

by stuffy_j



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Gabe plays with Jack's tits and Jack likes it, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffy_j/pseuds/stuffy_j
Summary: Jack may or may not have nipple piercings and Gabe may or may not be completely incapable of handling it.The white shirts are the worst. They’re just translucent enough that Gabe swears he can see the faint hint of a pink nipple sometimes, maybe a muted flash of silver if he wishes really hard. When Jack sweats, the material sticks even more to his chest and abs, showing off the muscle, the suggestion of firm flesh. But it’s never enough, never clear enough for Gabriel to come to any conclusions about Jack’s alleged nipple piercings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys remember when I posted a snippet of this on tumblr back in _March_??? Haha yeah neither do I...................but look! I'm posting it now!
> 
> Hope you all like it, and I would love to know what you think so please feel free to leave a kudos or, even better, a comment!
> 
> You can also find me at [edgedadhell](edgedadhell.tumblr.com) on tumblr! Come say hi!

Gabriel can’t stop staring.

He knows it’s rude, that he’s being incredibly unsubtle and probably making everyone around him more uncomfortable than he usually does, but he can’t help it.

He didn’t realize just how many tight black compression shirts Jack owns, because it seems like he’s been wearing them for a week straight without running out of laundry. Or maybe he’s been washing just one shirt every night. Gabriel doesn’t really care about the details.

Mostly he just cares about the way Jack’s shirt molds to his chest, showcasing the hard lines of his abs, his trim waist, contrasting so sharply with the soft swell of his pecs and his thick shoulders. Mostly Gabe just cares about the sudden appearance of  _ something  _ outlined where Jack’s nipples should be.

That  _ something _ looks suspiciously like nipple piercings.

That can’t be though. Jack -- Mr. Indiana-raised, aw-shucks, cornbread-fed  _ Jack Morrison _ \-- would never go for those. They aren’t regulation.

_ Neither is his hair _ , a small voice whispers in the back of Gabriel’s mind. He ignores it.

And besides, when and where would Jack have been able to get them done? Unless he’s suddenly had a lot more free time than the rest of the recruits (and if that’s the case, then Gabriel is having a very unhappy discussion with the brass later), Jack has been just as busy as the rest of them, running drills and getting injections and puking after said injections. Doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for body modification. Gabriel himself spends most of his free time sleeping. Or puking. On one memorable occasion, both.

Definitely no time to go get piercings that would leave him sore and sensitive for a while afterwards, that’s for sure.

But the more Gabriel looks, the more he can’t deny that all the clues are there. The shape under Jack’s shirts. The way Jack will rub absently at his pec, wince like he brushed something that aches and stings. The way Gabriel can’t pull his gaze away, no matter how much he wants to.

(He doesn’t understand the compression shirts though. Wouldn’t it feel better if the pressure of the fabric wasn’t rubbing against Jack’s skin constantly? But he’s not complaining about the shirts, that’s for damn sure.)

It gets so bad that one of the other recruits calls him out on it, though thankfully not in Jack’s earshot.

“Yo, Reyes, what’s up?” Pei asks, clapping her hand on Gabriel’s shoulder with a bit more force than is strictly necessary. “Trying to see if the treatments have given us laser vision too? Or just stuck on the Steve Rogers impersonation that Morrison’s chest is going for?”

Gabriel -- very carefully -- does not flush. “Shut the fuck up, Pei,” he mutters as she walks away, laughing.

But she’s got a point. The program has been working, especially for Jack’s chest. Gabriel knows he’s had to go up three shirt sizes since entering, and the current ones looks like they won’t be holding on for much longer either. Gabriel has had to go a couple of sizes up himself, especially in the pants department. (His ass is looking fantastic, if he does say so himself. He’s been doing extra squats. If there’s one thing he’s leaving this place with, it’s with an ass you can literally bounce a quarter off of.)

So yeah, Jack has been looking a little Steve Rogers-esque over the past few weeks, but Gabriel has been able to deal with that until now, apparently. Now that Jack went out and got himself some hardware. Gabriel conveniently ignores that he’s straight up lying to himself.

(All of this is complete conjecture, the little voice in Gabriel’s head says. You haven’t actually seen any proof yet. What if he doesn’t have piercings? Then you’re just staring at his chest for no reason.

Gabriel tells it to shut up. And then he ignores the voice. Again.

...He hasn’t seen Jack with his shirt off in a while though, which is impressive considering the near-constant presence of shirtless assholes walking around the base, plus the communal showers. And the fact that before this, the two of them often spent their free time hanging out in various states of undress with each other. Because they’re bros and that’s what bros do.)

After about two weeks of black compression shirts, Jack seems to move on to other colors. Suddenly every fucking shirt in his wardrobe is apparently a compression shirt. Gabriel doesn’t understand where they all came from. He certainly hasn’t gotten any new shirts recently. Maybe Jack finally needed the next size up and the brass has switched to all compression material? Whatever it is, Gabriel feels personally victimized.

The white shirts are the worst. They’re just translucent enough that Gabe swears he can see the faint hint of a pink nipple sometimes, maybe a muted flash of silver if he wishes really hard. When Jack sweats, the material sticks even more to his chest and abs, showing off the muscle, the suggestion of firm flesh. But it’s never enough, never clear enough for Gabriel to come to any conclusions about Jack’s alleged nipple piercings.

He loses fucking sleep over it, which never would have thought possible in the SEP. But he does, finds himself awake, staring at the ceiling as he imagines Jack lifting his shirt over his head, body stretching as each inch of skin is revealed, cloth slowly uncovering his pecs, the first flash of dull silver -- no, it would be shiny, polished, the piercings aren’t old enough to have tarnished yet, and besides, Jack’s probably the type of person to polish them every night -- then rosy, puffy nipples, still aching and sensitive. Gabriel can’t decide if Jack would have bars or rings, goes back and forth on the benefits and drawbacks of each before deciding it doesn’t matter.

He falls asleep like that, wakes up to the faint suggestion of sleep-warm skin and cool metal and a boner that could fucking pound nails into hardwood.

“Shit,” Gabriel says, staring down at the tent in his sweatpants. He can’t go to the fucking showers like this, doesn’t want to deal with the taunts of the other recruits or the awkwardness of going to breakfast with his fucking throbbing cock in his pants. All because the thought of Jack Morrison with a little hardware excites the shit out of him, apparently.

Jerking off in the room won’t work either -- he doesn’t have any tissues, and he’s down to the last clean shirt he has because laundry is tomorrow, not today. Gabriel decides to skip the start of breakfast this morning; he can deal with lukewarm eggs and the last dregs of coffee as long as he gets the showers to himself. He waits a little longer, until he knows everyone else is in the cafeteria and chowing down on whatever nutritionally-enhanced bullshit they’ve decided to serve this morning before he makes his furtive escape to the showers.

Fast-walking with a hard-on fucking  _ sucks _ . But he makes it without being seen, which is all that matters, sneaking past the low buzz of the mess hall as the soldiers wake up before a day of training.

Slipping through the locker room door, Gabriel stops short. Someone is still in here. The air is still humid, smells like the mass produced soap they all use, and the faint hiss of water coming from a showerhead echoes through the tiled room. Cursing to himself, Gabriel carefully closes the door behind him so it doesn’t slam and alert the other occupant, creeps forward on silent feet so he can go hide in one of the bathroom stalls until the other person leaves.

A good plan, until Gabriel realizes that the toilets are past the opening to the communal showers. He’ll have to sneak right past them, in plain sight and all his throbbing glory, in order to hide.

Releasing an inaudible sigh over the sound of water hitting tile, Gabriel steels himself to make a dash while the shower occupant’s back is turned. Fortunately the showers echo like a motherfucker, and even just the sound of one is loud enough to drown out his footsteps, as long as he doesn’t slip and fall or bang into something.

He won’t bang into something, though. If the SEP has been good for one thing, it’s made Gabriel into a fucking silent killer.

He gets up close to the shower opening, preparing to peek around the entrance to make sure whoever’s in there has their back to the rest of the room. Clouds of steam trickle onto the cold tile of the rest of the locker room, slightly obscuring the view, which works excellently in Gabriel’s favor. He peers around the corner, gets an obscured eyeful of a pale ass through the steam as the occupant scrubs at their hair, the lather from the shampoo dripping onto the floor around them. Gabriel ducks back around and takes a deep, silent breath, preparing to move.

He makes sure the pads of his bare feet are inaudible as he tries not to slip on the slick tiles, glancing at the occupant as he slips past, just to make sure they haven’t turned back around at the worst moment possible.

Gabriel nearly slips and breaks his neck.

That’s  _ Jack _ .

Gabriel’s boner, which has started to deflate slightly,  comes back in full force as his brain processes the scene in front of him. Jack Morrison is standing in the showers, eyes closed, water streaming down his chest and hips, flattening that golden hair as he picks up a bar of soap and brings it up to his clavicle. The skin of his chest gleams in the fluorescent lighting, shiny with soap as he rubs the suds into his skin.

Gabriel jumps slightly as Jack lets out a small moan, running the bar of soap over his nipples and the, oh god, the silver  _ rings  _ that lay on his chest. He brings two fingers up to twist at his left nipple, which is still puffy (just like Gabriel imagined). Jack’s cock twitches slightly between his thighs, mostly soft but filling out slowly, skin turning red from the heat of the water. Gabriel’s brain must have been dunked in a deep fryer, because it is completely offline, totally unresponsive to the small, miniscule really, part of himself that is screaming to  _ hide _ , goddammit, stop staring like a fucking caveman and  _ do something! _

Jack opens his eyes. And then he opens them wider.

“Shit, Gabe!” he practically squawks, soap slipping from his grasp. He throws a hand across his chest, the other down between his legs. Gabriel thinks, slightly hysterically, that Jack looks like a Victorian maiden trying to preserve her modesty and failing miserably.

The soap thunks to the floor, the noise of it shaking Gabriel out of his deep-fried state. “Hey Jack,” he says, voice still sleep-deep and slow. He watches Jack swallow carefully.

“Uh, hey,” Jack says. His voice doesn’t tremble, but Gabriel notices the careful modulation behind it, the way Jack glances over his shoulder to the rest of the locker room, checking for more people behind the bulk of Gabriel’s body.

“It’s just me,” Gabriel says. Jack relaxes slightly, shoulders untensing the tiniest bit before he apparently remembers just what he’s covering on his chest. He tenses right back up.

“Thought you’d be at breakfast by now,” Jack says, carefully casual. Gabriel raises an eyebrow.

“Could say the same about you.”

Jack shifts. Gabriel notes his cock is still half-hard, lying thick against his thigh. “Woke up a bit on the later side this morning, got a late start,” Jack lies. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Gabriel makes an executive decision, steps into the shower and moves towards Jack, shirt and sweatpants immediately soaking through and sticking to his body, outlining his still hard cock. Jack stands his ground, but Gabriel can see his pulse jumping in his throat, sees his eyes widen as he (finally) notices the thick outline in Gabriel’s pants. Gabriel stops just a few inches shy of where Jack’s standing, letting the spray of the water drench him, watches Jack watch him.

“Haven’t you learned to stop lying to me by now, Jack?” he asks. “Thought you understood by now that I always know when you are.” 

Jack frowns, indignant. The water running down his face makes it look way too dramatic. Gabriel is waiting for the director to come out and yell ‘cut’ at them at any moment. He wonders if the heat of the water is getting to him. “I’m not lying,” Jack lies again.

“Yeah?” Gabriel asks, and then looks pointedly at Jack’s arm still crossed tightly against his chest. “So you aren’t showering late because you got a little non-regulation modification going on you don’t want anyone to see?”

He watches with relish as Jack flushes, redness creeping from his face down to his chest, deepening the skin that is already colored from the heat of the shower. But he drops his arm (still keeps a hand over his dick, though it’s not doing much honestly), revealing the rings embedded in his flesh, the nipples still puffy-looking and pink.

“You gonna tell the brass?” he asks, and Gabriel frowns at the slightly dull tone in his voice, as though Jack expects him to rat him out first chance he gets.

“Why the fuck would I tell the brass,  _ pendejo _ ?” Gabriel says, offended. “Farm-boy went and got himself something he wanted. I should be throwing you a party, not telling the fucking brass.” He spits the last word with venom.

“Oh,” Jack says, a small smile on his face, “Thanks, Gabe.” He looks around the showers before raising his own eyebrow at Gabriel. “So why are you in here alone so late? Shouldn’t  _ you _ be at breakfast by now?” he asks, smirks at Gabriel with that asshole look of his.

Gabriel loves that fucking smirk and also wants to wipe it off Jack’s goddamn face.

“I don’t think that’s the real question of the moment,” Gabriel says. He steps incrementally closer to Jack, can see the droplets at the ends of Jack’s eyelashes, making the blue sparkle even more. “I think the real question is  _ why _ did you get these?” He brings a finger up, flicks the left ring with his nail, just once.

Jack shudders, bites his lower lip like he’s trying to keep something inside. “D-don’t,” he says, breath coming a little faster than before.

“Don’t what?” Gabriel asks, keeps his finger up, almost touching the ring but not quite. He can feel the shower-warm heat of Jack’s body radiating off of him, can see the slight uptick of Jack’s pulse in his throat. Gabriel feels dizzy suddenly, like the steam of the shower is filling his lungs and pushing all the air out.

“They’re still sen-sensitive,” Jack says after a moment, gaze glued to Gabriel’s finger.

Gabriel brings his other hand up, cups Jack’s pec and thumbs the right ring, flipping it up and down several times. “So you don’t want me to touch them?” he asks, shocked by how calm his voice manages to sound. On the inside he’s pretty sure he’s about to literally melt and flow down the drain with the rest of the water. The metal of the ring is hot and smooth under the pad of his thumb, Jack’s muscle firm in his grip. Jack’s chest moves up and down as he takes audible breaths in the steam-filled room. The lighting in the showers makes his eyes look endless, an ocean in his gaze as Gabriel looks at him.

Gabriel withdraws his hands as Jack says nothing, just continues to look at him, water running down his face and mouth half-open. Fuck, Gabriel may have misjudged, may have read things wrong entirely, Jack doesn’t want this, is uncomfortable but doesn’t know how to tell him, Gabriel needs to get away from him before he fucks things up even more, he probably needs to change to a different unit now or something,  _ shit _ \--

And then Jack blinks. Something flickers on in the back of his gaze, like he’s refocusing or rebooting, catching up with the situation. The fucking smirk returns, just slightly this time, curled in the corners of Jack’s mouth, but it’s there. He grasps Gabriel’s hands in his own and brings them back up, presses them against his chest, lets Gabriel feel the water-hot flesh in his palms, the way Jack’s chest moves as he continues to take little panting breaths. “I didn’t say I don’t want you to touch them,” he says, cocks an eyebrow at Gabriel like the motherfucker he is.

Gabriel blinks once himself before grinning, sharp and nearly predatory. “You didn’t, huh?” he says, squeezing Jack’s chest, feeling the steel of muscle under the soft skin in his hands. He watches Jack inhale slightly, but he doesn’t lose his infuriatingly attractive smirk, the bastard. Gabriel thumbs both rings in retaliation, flips them up and down, feels Jack’s nipples stiffen under his fingertips.  _ That _ gets him a reaction, Jack’s eyes losing focus and his mouth dropping open just slightly on a small whimper. “You never answered my question, Jackie,” he says.

“W-what?” Jack says, has clearly lost the thread of the conversation. Shit, he must be  _ really  _ sensitive. Gabriel has never seen him this out of it, even during one training sim when Jack broke his leg and had to have field anesthesia administered. Even then Jack had been alert and taking in information. Now he just looks--well, he looks wrecked, for lack of a better term. His eyes are fever-bright, skin flushed from both the heat of the shower and the near-constant blushing, hair spiked and wet from running his hands through it, lower lip bitten red and lush. Gabriel takes another step forward, puts himself directly in Jack’s space, brushes his aching erection still encased in now-soaked sweatpants against the corded muscle of Jack’s thigh. Jack jumps and sighs, canting his hips up against Gabriel’s, grinding against the rough fabric.

Now it’s Gabriel’s turn to smirk, tucking his face against Jack’s neck and nosing at his ear. His hands are trapped between their bodies, kneading the plush muscles, twisting the piercings. He can feel Jack’s own erection, now full and blood-heavy, hot even through the fabric of the sweatpants. Gabriel bites Jack’s ear lightly, pulling at it before leaving sucking, biting kisses along his jawline, the rough scratch of the stubble Jack hasn’t had a chance to shave off yet scraping slightly against his own facial hair, moving towards Jack’s mouth. He hovers for a moment over Jack’s lips, humid air shared between the two of them. Jack must have closed his eyes, because he opens them when Gabriel doesn’t kiss him, the small frown returning again and pulling the corners of his mouth down slightly.

“You okay with this?” Gabriel asks, voice suddenly quiet in the non-existent space between them, staring at the little ‘v’ of consternation Jack’s frown has made between his brows. Jack might be okay with a lot of things--with the groping, and the teasing, and maybe some other stuff that Gabe can feel hot and hard against his thigh--but that doesn’t mean he wants  _ this _ , wants Gabriel’s mouth on him, wants to share more than what he’s already offered.

_ God _ , Gabriel hopes Jack wants more.

A hand lifts up to Gabriel’s face, tugs lightly on the wet hair of his beard until he’s looking Jack in the eyes, which are filled with a kind of deep warmth. “Yes, you dumbass,” Jack says. “Of course I’m okay with this.” He leans in and kisses Gabriel.

Water pours over their faces, making the kiss wet, messy, even though the it remains close-mouthed and chaste for several moments, until Gabriel twists one of Jack’s nipples slightly. Jack yelps, mouth opening and Gabriel takes full advantage, pushing their tongues together and tasting Jack. Gabriel moans slightly as Jack pushes back against him, Jack’s tongue slick and mouth wet and lush. He tastes like the generic mint toothpaste they all use, and then he pushes Gabriel away gently, trying to grimace and failing miserably around the smile he can’t seem to stop.

“You taste disgusting, have you brushed your teeth today?” he asks, brushing hair out of his eyes.

“Not yet,” Gabriel says sheepishly, glancing down at his sweats. “Woke up with more...pressing matters to deal with this morning.”

Jack glances down as well before rolling his eyes, and Gabriel feels the moment effectively break. He mourns it quietly. 

Suddenly they hear the door to the locker room fly open with a bang, and they jump apart even farther. “Reyes, Morrison, you two in here?” shouts Carlson.

“Yes, sir,” Jack shouts back, hurriedly starting to scrub at his skin again.

“Hurry the fuck up, we report in twenty minutes for training and the two of you haven’t had breakfast yet. It ain’t gonna be my fault when you two dumbasses faint outside because you didn’t get your proper nutrition this morning.” He lets the door shut with another bang.

“Well, fuck,” Gabe says, staring mournfully down at his erection, still trapped in soggy sweatpants.

“Maybe later,” Jack says, turning off the water and grabbing a towel from the stack by the shower entrance. “I’m getting out of here, last time I passed out during training they made me watch that fucking hydration video again.” He pauses while drying his hair, eyes unfocused. “Just played it on repeat while the whole IV took its sweet time rehydrating me.” He shudders and goes back to drying his hair again before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading for his locker.

Gabriel stands in the now-empty shower, still staring at his boner. This morning had been going  _ so right _ ; what the fuck happened?

“Might want to deal with that and get a move on,” Jack’s voice comes floating in, reverberating off the tiled walls. “I guarantee you don’t want to watch the hydration clip for thirty minutes straight. Not very fun for anyone.”

Gabriel snorts a laugh and walks over to where Jack is changing, dripping water creating a slick path behind him. “That right,  _ cariño _ ?” he asks, coming up behind Jack. Jack is mostly dry by this point, has dragged on his fatigues and is getting ready to put on a shirt, keeps his back turned to Gabriel. “I have an idea of what would be more fun,” Gabriel says, reaching around to grasp Jack’s chest again, thumbs flicking the rings again, relishing the gasp that drops from Jack’s mouth.

“Ah-h, Gabe--!”

Gabriel makes a  _ tsk _ ing sound, squeeze Jack’s pecs once before dropping his hands and stepping back. “Meet me in my quarters tonight, after dinner. We’ll have some fun then.” His voice drops lower on the last few words before he turns his back on Jack, goes for his own locker to start changing. He’s out the door and in the mess hall, shoveling reconstituted eggs in his mouth before Jack’s brain kicks back on.

  
Fuck, tonight is going to be  _ good _ .


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy everyone...about a whole damn month later, here's chapter two! I am so sorry for how long this took me to write -- things are a little crazy right now because I'm job-hunting, and every time I tried to sit down to write porn, a little part of my brain would say, "You should really be looking for a job right now" and then I'd feel guilty and end up not doing anything productive. So once again, super sorry about the delay!
> 
> But hey, to make up for it, here's about 7k words of porn and banter! But mostly porn!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all so much for the amazing positive feedback on the first chapter -- the response honestly blew me away! I would love to know what you think about this chapter as well, so please feel free to leave a kudos or a comment! Or even both!
> 
> You can also find me at [edgedadhell](edgedadhell.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Come say hi!

Tonight might be good, but the rest of the day leading up to it is fucking  _ terrible _ . Gabriel’s boner keeps showing up at incredibly inopportune moments, popping up at the slightest provocation. Gabriel blames it on the fact that he actually didn’t have a chance to jerk off this morning.

He also blames it on Jack, who seems to be doing his absolute fucking best to be as obnoxious as possible throughout the rest of the day. Jack shows up to breakfast wearing what appears to be the  _ tightest goddamn compression shirt he owns _ , managing to outline nearly every muscle in his upper body but somehow not revealing the rings which Gabriel now knows for a fact are hidden under that fabric, which is doing a truly admirable job of not busting open at the sheer strain of clothing Jack. 

Jack smirks at him when Gabriel accidentally inhales a sip of his coffee after Jack fucking saunters into the mess hall. Doesn’t even come over to give him a pat on the back, make sure he isn’t fucking  _ choking to death  _ because Jack “asshole” Morrison has apparently decided to test the laws of physics on an innocent piece of spandex for the day.

“Fuck you,” Gabriel mutters into his coffee mug, still coughing slightly.

“If you’re lucky,” Jack says breezily, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth and crunching loudly. It’s honestly disgusting to watch.

Gabriel hates -- and maybe kinda sorta  _ loves _ \-- him all at the same time.

It doesn’t get any better during training. All the running, stretching,  _ flexing _ \-- Gabriel is going to lose his goddamn mind if Jack complains about it being hot one more time and then dumps another bottle of water over his head. His shirt is soaked through by this point, droplets of water cascading down his forehead, and Gabriel keeps flashing back to that morning in the shower.

And then he gets fake-shot, because they’re running a training sim and he just got his dumb ass sniped because he’s too busy mooning over the way Jack’s biceps are straining the sleeves of his t-shirt.

Gabriel decides to take revenge the only way he knows how at the moment. In between suicides on the training course, he takes a water bottle and dumps it over his own head, soaking his shirt before he whips it off. He  _ knows _ what he looks like, the gleaming streams of water catching on his chest hair and dripping down the defined lines of his abs, and it’s working, because Jack can’t stop staring. “You’re right, Morrison,” he says, slightly too loud, grins when Jack jumps and looks guilty, “It is really hot today. Maybe you should also take off your shirt, don’t want to get heatstroke, you know.”

Several of the other recruits murmur their assent, also stripping down to reveal bare chests or military-issue sports bras.

Everyone except Jack, who’s gaping a bit like a fish out of water but also staring murder at Gabriel. He smirks slightly in response. 

“Not gonna join us, Jack?” he asks, keeping his tone as light and innocent as possible, trying not to attract too much undue attention from the others now.

Jack’s jaw clenches like he’s grinding his teeth before a strained smile breaks on his face. “Nah, you know how easily I burn,” he says, his tone also light but with an undercurrent of  _ you absolute fucker _ in it. “Think I’ll just keep my shirt on, try to minimize the damage a bit.”

“Hope you get a real nice farmer’s tan, Morrison,” Khouri says, and the others laugh. They start the next suicide, and Jack runs up next to Gabriel.

“You absolute fucker,” he hisses at him, before sprinting past Gabriel and up the hillside. Gabriel just grins, watches the way Jack’s legs flex and release, his ass small but tight, back muscles clearly defined and beautiful as he pumps his arms while he runs. Watching Jack is a good time from any direction, and Gabriel is thoroughly enjoying himself.

They get split up after that, which is probably for the best, as Gabriel gets dragged off for target practice and Jack goes back out for more training sims. Gabriel figures it has something to do with the fact he got sniped during one of the morning sims -- it’s important to be able to return fire even if you’ve just been shot yourself. Or something like that. He shoots down the range at increasingly smaller and more difficult targets, hitting the majority of them but missing quite a few as well. Of course, he’s no sniper, so he doesn’t take it too much to heart. That, and staring down the targets to line up the perfect shot makes for a highly effective way to take his mind off of Jack. Doesn’t forget about him, of fucking course not. Gabriel’s just grateful he isn’t in danger of popping a boner every five seconds now.

He doesn’t see Jack again until dinner, the mess hall filled with bustling super soldiers-in-training all trying to get the first round of food after a long day. Gabriel spots Jack’s blond head from across the room where he’s standing surrounded by a few other people, and Gabriel feels pathetically cliche for a moment before he makes his way over to the other man.

“Hey, Gabe,” Jack says cheerfully, though the line of his shoulders belies a certain exhaustion that comes only from running sim after sim. “How was the rest of your day? Hopefully all that target practice helped you figure out how to become less of a target yourself.” He grins as the soldiers around them laugh loudly.

Gabriel smiles as well, shrugging slightly. “Yeah, the shooting range targets taught me all their secrets, I’m a sniping god now, so I guess the program’s worked. Just have to get all of us to have a chat with some non-sentient objects.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Jack says, deadpan.

“Don’t be jealous just because I got to hone my craft while you were stuck running around outside,” Gabriel teases back. He flicks a finger out to touch the bridge of Jack’s nose, running the tip of it across the smattering of freckles and faintly reddened skin there. “Looks like you got a little burned, Snow White.”

Jack bats his hand away. “We can’t all be from the sunny shores of California,” he says, rubbing his nose slightly, face scrunching up. It’s fucking adorable and Gabriel kind of wants to die for thinking that about a fellow super-soldier, but with Jack it’s just true.

“Hey, can y’all wait until after we’ve had dinner before you start with the PDA?” Voelker says as he passes them with a tray full of food. He’s smiling slightly, but not meanly, so Gabriel knows he doesn’t have to kick the guy’s knees in during the next sim they’re on together.

“Hey, go fuck yourself,” Jack says easily in response. 

Gabriel just laughs, claps a hand on Jack’s shoulder and steers him towards the line. “Let’s eat fast and get out of here. Remember,” he says, voice dropping low so only Jack can hear him, “meet me in my quarters later. I wanna see those tan lines for myself.” He squeezes the shoulder in his grip, wishing it was a different part of Jack’s anatomy, before dropping his hand and picking up a tray.

Jack is silent, but Gabriel can see the slight sunburn on his cheeks darken as he blushes and glares slightly at him. Gabriel grins, unrepentant.

They eat dinner sitting across the table from each other, joined by several other soldiers as they all chatter together. It’s nice, a kind of camaraderie that Gabriel hadn’t really expected to find when he first entered the SEP. Gabriel thinks about trying to rile Jack up some more by trying to play footsie underneath the table, but nixes that idea fairly quickly. Jack isn’t exactly...subtle when he’s surprised.

As he finishes his meal, Gabriel stands up and says good night to the table, declines a few invitations to play pool in the rec room with some of the others. “Sorry, but I think I’m gonna head to bed pretty soon,” he says, catching Jack’s eye. Jack gives a slight, barely there nod and Gabriel turns and walks away, dropping off his tray before exiting the mess hall. He can hear Jack making his own excuses, can feel his pulse start to beat harder in anticipation.

Jack doesn’t come right to his quarters, the obnoxious bastard. Gabriel paces around the small space, thinks about tidying up a bit before realizing that there isn’t anything to actually...tidy up. His bed is made with military precision, the desk’s surface is free from clutter, the sturdy chair pushed in. No dirty laundry litters the ground; even the frame containing several photos of his family sits straight on the small nightstand. It looks like a military dorm room, which is exactly what it is.

He paces some more.

Maybe...maybe Jack  _ didn’t _ understand Gabriel’s look? Maybe he thought Gabriel actually wanted to go to sleep right away after dinner? But then why would he nod? Was Jack just that fucking dense?

Actually, now that Gabriel really thought about it, Jack kind of was. He was deadly on the battlefield, a tactical genius when he wanted to be, but the man could otherwise be a bit of tomato when it came to day-to-day interactions.

Gabriel jumps as a knock sounds at the door. He can feel his heartbeat pitch dramatically upwards, pounding in his temples as he crosses the small space in just a few strides. He pauses just before he opens the door, wonders just slightly who -- or what -- will be on the other side. He’s expecting Jack, but it really could be anyone. Gabriel takes a deep breath, wills himself to calm the  _ fuck  _ down. 

He opens the door.

Jack is on the other side, and Gabriel breaths an immense sigh of relief before registering what, exactly, he sees. And then he promptly starts choking on his own breath, because Jack looks  _ amazing _ .

Apparently the delay was caused by Jack deciding to take another shower, because his hair is still faintly wet and flat against his skull, a stray droplet tracking slowly down the side of his neck. The compression shirt is gone, replaced by a ratty white tank top that has clearly seen better days if the ragged hemline is anything to go by. Sweatpants sit low on Jack’s hips, cinched across the narrow flesh, the gray fabric darker in some places where Jack failed to completely dry himself. The outfit is -- only slightly -- ruined by the fucking shitty flip-flops Jack has on his feet, though Gabriel supposes he can be forgiven because it’s clear he’s only wearing them because he came directly from the showers to his quarters.

But the best part, oh god, the  _ best part _ of Jack’s outfit is the fact that those silver rings are relatively clear underneath his shirt. Which means that  _ Jack walked to Gabriel’s room with those nearly entirely visible _ . 

Jack raises an eyebrow at him and Gabriel realizes, vaguely, that he’s been staring at Jack for too long to be considered normal.

“Shut up,” he says, and pulls Jack inside his room, quickly shutting the door behind him.

“Didn’t say a word,” Jack says, grin sharp and obnoxious on his face. 

Gabriel kisses him to wipe that fucking smile off his fucking smug-ass face, biting lightly at Jack’s lower lip. Jack’s grin is indomitable, pressing against Gabriel’s lips, widening as Gabriel nips at him.

“Shut up,” Gabriel says again, pulling away slightly and pushing Jack up against the wall.

“Still haven’t said anything,” Jack says, smile wide and irrepressible even though his lips are starting to swell from kissing. 

“What did I say about lying to me?” Gabriel asks, his own smirk stretching across his face as he watches a light blush flush across Jack’s cheeks as he remembers their morning in the shower. He leans back in to kiss Jack, pushing himself up against that hard, perfect body, slipping a thick thigh between Jack’s own. He presses it up, can feel the hardening line of Jack’s cock, blood-warm and thick against his leg, feels the rise and fall of Jack’s chest as he breathes against his own.

They stay like that for a few minutes, kissing against the wall, pressing up against one another like if they try hard enough they can occupy the same space. Jack grinds slowly down on Gabriel’s thigh, almost like it’s an afterthought, tongue darting out to taste Gabriel’s own. His hands have found a hold on Gabriel’s ass, gripping and squeezing the flesh still encased in fatigues like it’s the only thing preventing him from completely flying apart in Gabriel’s arms. Gabriel strokes one hand through Jack’s hair, feels the water slip through his fingers as the strands dry into an unruly, bright mess on top of Jack’s head. His other hand is secured at Jack’s waist, fingers dipping under the ragged hemline of the tank top to feel the warm, damp flesh underneath. He itches to creep further up, to pull the shirt from Jack’s frame, but he won’t yet; he can feel slight goosebumps under the tips of his fingers, enjoys the way Jack shudders every time Gabriel bites down on Jack’s lower lip, harder and harder. He can feel Jack breaking in his grip, wants to be there when he shatters, wants to be the  _ reason _ he shatters, just so he can put Jack back together again.

Finally Jack drags his mouth from Gabriel’s, tips his head back against the wall, panting like he never joined the SEP and just ran a marathon. “Christ, Gabe,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut, pulling Gabriel’s hips harder into his own with his grip. “Fuck, please --” he breaks off with a moan as Gabriel indulges him and slips both hands under the tank top, hands nearly spanning the narrow width of Jack’s hips and waist.

“Program’s got you looking like a goddamn corn chip,” Gabriel says, leaning in to nose at the tempting exposed length of Jack’s neck. “You got the chest, now we gotta work on you actually developing an ass instead of this pancake situation you got going on instead.” Gabriel slips one hand between the wall and the firm line of Jack’s back, slides it down to grasp a good handful of said ass while he sucks lightly at the skin below his mouth. Jack’s so pale, it wouldn’t surprise him if that caused a small bruise; Gabriel’s gratified to see a small red mark where his mouth was when he pulls back, though he mourns the fact that it will most likely be gone by morning.

Jack laughs, tilting his head back down and -- somewhat reluctantly -- letting go of Gabriel’s ass to cup his face in his hands instead. “Don’t hear you complaining all that much,” he says, leaning in to kiss Gabriel again, just briefly. Gabriel tries to follow him when he pulls back, but Jack pushes him away slightly. “Back up,” he says, “I wanna get this show on the road.”

Gabriel backs up a few steps, watches intently as Jack rips the tank top over his head and flings it to the side before pushing his sweatpants down to the floor. He isn’t sure whether or not he should be disappointed that Jack apparently decided to put on underwear after his shower, although he supposes freeballing it from the showers to here wouldn’t be the smartest or most comfortable move.

“Someone’s eager,” Gabriel comments mildly, eyebrows raised as he gives Jack another shit-eating grin when the other man looks up to glare at him from retrieving his sweatpants from the ground. Jack folds the gray fabric, places it on top of Gabriel’s desk, folds the shitty tank top as well and places it neatly on the sweatpants. 

Jack kicks off his flip-flops before hooking his thumbs in the band of his boxer-briefs, tugging slightly and revealing the line of his hips, skin stretched taut over muscle and bone. Gabriel’s eyes are glued to the golden-brown line of hair that Jack reveals, the outline of his cock where he can see it against the fabric of the boxer-briefs. Gabriel steps forward again, can’t help himself, and Jack stops pushing his underwear down, stands up fully and frowns at Gabriel again.

“Gabriel Reyes, if you take another step closer and interrupt this process, it’s going to take much longer than it needs for all my clothes to come off,” Jack says, trying (and partially succeeding) to sound stern. Gabriel chuckles, drags his eyes up Jack’s body, where they land on --

On those piercings, slightly reflecting the light from the overhead lamp in a shiny crescent, the warm tones of Jack’s shower-fresh skin. 

“Shit, Jack,” Gabriel says, closing the rest of the distance between the two of them to bring his hands up and cup those pecs again. As soon as he’s holding them in his palms, he realizes how  _ right _ they feel there, the flesh warm from the shower and Jack’s own body heat. Jack groans low in his throat as Gabriel’s fingers brush against his nipples, feels the puffy tips become hard from the stimulation.

“When’d you get these done?” Gabriel asks lowly, teeth nudging Jack’s earlobe as he slips one hand around Jack’s waist once more, drawing him over to the chair on the other side of the room. Gabriel carefully sits down, drags Jack into his lap and promptly buries his face into those plush pectorals, sucking at the skin and grinding up into Jack, the two of them still separated by several layers of fabric.

“A-ah! Fuck, Gabe,” Jack moans, hands coming up to grip Gabriel’s head and pull him firmly into his chest some more. “Got th-them done...about three m-months ago,” he pants out finally. “They’re mo-mostly healed -- hnnngh, fuck! -- but def-definitely still sensitive, like I told you this morning.”

Gabriel bites at first one, then the other, pulling lightly on the rings as Jack squirms and pants in his lap, grinding their trapped cocks together. Fuck, Gabriel can feel himself getting wet, fabric rough against the sensitive head of his dick as he bites and sucks at Jack’s nipples, getting them red and sore. He laves his tongue over them, tugs the rings just to hear the hitches in Jack’s breathing. Finally he forces himself to pull away, brings his hands to Jack’s hips to help him stand up a bit so that Gabriel can rip both of their remaining layers out of the way before guiding Jack back down.

The first touch of their cocks is lightning down Gabriel’s spine, and he groans as Jack wraps a calloused hand around both of them and starts stroking. Jack’s other hand grabs the back of Gabriel’s head again and pulls it towards his chest, pushing himself forward, silently asking for more. And who is Gabriel to deny him? He bites again at Jack’s left nipple, brings his hand up to play with the right, flicking the piercings up and down, tugging them gently (and not so gently), twisting them as Jack moves his fist and his hips, pushing them both closer and closer to the edge.

Gabriel can feel the heat burning low in his stomach, can feel it coiling in his balls, and fuck, he wants so badly to let it go, let himself spend over both their hands, but he has other plans for the evening. “Fuck,” he groans out as he slowly pushes Jack off his lap until the other man is standing, confused and panting above him.

“What the hell?” Jack says, cock red and so incredibly hard, a pearly drop of precum lingering at the tip before sliding down the shaft. His face is confused, brows furrowed and blue eyes dark.

“Sorry,  _ cariño _ ,” Gabriel says, standing up and kissing Jack soundly until he knows the other man won’t have the breath to talk back when they part. “Don’t want the night to end so soon. Besides,” he says, walking over to the nightstand, “If I let you finish us off like that, then getting this together would’ve been useless.” He holds up a new bottle of lube and a string of condoms, laughing slightly. “I had to call in a few favors to get my hands on this stuff, would be a shame to waste it.” He winks at Jack, who shakes his head, exasperated but smiling.

“You did not just use that line on me,” Jack says, plucking the bottle of lube out of Gabriel’s hands and setting it back on the nightstand. 

“I’m only gonna regret it if it didn’t work.”

“Fuck off.”

“Nah, I’d rather fuck you,” Gabriel says, dropping the string of condoms on the nightstand as well and suddenly pushing Jack, who is hobbled slightly by his underwear around his thighs, onto the bed.

“Gabriel -- !” Jack exclaims, bouncing on his elbows, mouth open and red and lush, and Gabriel can’t help but follow him down, covers Jack with his body and kisses him as deeply as he can, ravaging Jack’s mouth. Jack lets him, just for a few moments, before he kisses back just as hard, demanding, tongue sweeping through Gabriel’s mouth, hot and wet and everything Gabriel hadn’t known he needed but  _ god  _ he’d never be able to live without it now.

Gabriel insinuates his hips between Jack’s legs, pushes his thighs open and grinds down, dragging their cocks together in a slide that is marred by slightly too much friction, though Gabriel doesn’t care much, and neither does Jack, if the moan that drifts from his mouth is anything to go by. “Shit, Jack,” Gabriel pants into Jack’s neck, brings his hands up to cup and massage Jack’s chest again, pinching his nipples and tugging at the silver rings rhythmically as Jack writhes underneath him. “Shit, Jackie, so fuckin’ hot, still can’t believe you got these -- look so fucking good --” 

He trails off as an idea flashes through his head, sends a wave of heat rolling over him so hard and fast he’s left gasping in its wake. He sits up, straddles Jack’s hips as the other man opens his eyes, hazy with pleasure, the blue muddled and dark.

“Gabe, what --” Jack starts to say, but he’s cut off by Gabriel rolling his hips once, twice, the fat head of his cock sliding across the sweaty, flushed skin of Jack’s chest. Gabriel groans as his cock slides through the natural valley between Jack’s pectorals, throws his head back as Jack seems to get it, a mischievous light twinkling in his eyes.

“Please, Jack,” is all Gabriel can say before Jack grins and brings his hands up, pushes his chest together, creating a neat space for Gabriel to fuck into, plush and soft but unyielding underneath the skin. “God,” Gabriel hisses through his teeth as he looks down to watch himself fuck Jack’s -- fuck  _ Jack’s tits _ , he can’t think of them any other way -- his cock, ruddy and dark, just slick enough to not catch on Jack’s chest hair as he thrusts smoothly. He gasps as his thrusts roll his foreskin over the sensitive head, over and over, driving Gabriel mad with how good it feels.

Jack is smirking, staring up at Gabriel and pushing his tits together like he knows this is one of the greatest days of Gabriel’s life. He’s digging his teeth into his lower lip, though, like he’s trying to hold his own noises in, which Gabriel notices even through his own lust-drunk haze. He brings one hand, which had been pressing against the wall for leverage, down to pluck and pinch at Jack’s nipples, pulling less gently at the piercings until the nipples are red and peaked and stiff, hot to the touch.

Jack throws his head back, releases his lower lip with a strangled moan as his hips lift into the air, nearly dislodging Gabriel, but he keeps his hands where they are, creating that tight, pillowy space for Gabriel to fuck into over and over and over again.

“Fuck, you love this don’t you,” Gabriel says breathlessly, runs his eyes greedily over the line of Jack’s throat and jaw. “You love having me fuck your tits like this, love having me play with them just you like you need.”

Jack moans loudly at that, and it sends a rush of heat down Gabriel’s spine and into his cock, which throbs as he fucks forward. God, it feels so good, would feel so fucking good to keep fucking like this, see himself spend hot and wet over Jack’s chest and face, clean it up with his tongue afterwards --

Jack drops his hands and the tight valley disappears as Gabriel’s hips stutter to a halt.

“What the fuck?” he says, panting and glaring down at Jack, who raises his brows and glances significantly at the condoms and lube on the nightstand.

“Hey, you were the one who said you didn’t want your effort to go to waste,” Jack says, clearly attempting to sound nonchalant and missing the mark by a mile (it’s mostly ruined by the fact that he is also panting and his nipples are still standing stiff and red on his chest). “I’m just trying to help.”

“Oh, are you,” Gabriel says flatly, though a smile hides itself in the corner of his lips. He takes Jack in: blonde hair a mess, cheeks and chest red and panting, nipples slightly puffy looking, eyes bright with humour and arousal. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah, I thought so t -- Fuck, Gabe! What the hell!” Jack exclaims as Gabriel suddenly lifts himself off Jack’s hips and flips him over onto his stomach on the bed. “What the fuck was that about?” Jack asks, voice muffled thanks to the faceful of blankets he is planted in.

“Appreciating your thoughtfulness,” Gabriel says as he lifts Jack’s hips up, spreads his thick thighs apart with strong, capable hands. Jack’s ass is tight and round in front of him, cheeks small enough to fit in the palms of his hands as he spreads them to reveal the tight clench of Jack’s hole. 

“Shit, Gabe,” Jack says breathlessly, cutting himself off with a small gasping yelp as Gabriel drags the flat of his tongue over Jack’s entrance, tasting him, fresh and clean from the shower with the barely-there bitter tang of soap on his skin. It’s intoxicating, and Gabriel pushes in, tongue slipping past that tight ring of muscle to where he’s hot and soft inside, feels Jack clench reflexively around him. 

“F-fuck,” Jack says, voice still muffled. Gabriel feels him shift, hears the soft, wet sounds of Jack jerking himself off, hips up in the hair and shoulders on the bed, Gabriel’s tongue in his ass. Gabriel lets go of one asscheek, brings his hand to where Jack’s hole is wet and more relaxed, presses just one finger inside, into the clenching heat. Jack whines high in the air, and Gabriel hears his hand speed up on his dick.

Sitting up, Gabriel quickly snags the bottle of lube from the nightstand, pours a decent amount in his hand and spreads it on his fingers, goes back to opening Jack up. He presses his finger in and out a few times, loosening Jack up before he adds a second finger. He fucks them in and out for a couple of minutes, gets Jack used to the stretch before he leans back in, scissors his fingers and shoves his tongue back inside Jack as well, wiggles it around, tasting the skin of his own hand and Jack, the lube chemical but bearable.

Jack is panting and moaning almost continuously now, hips hitching back and forth like he’s not sure if he wants to fuck his fist or fuck himself on Gabriel’s tongue and fingers more. His breaths are high and labored, and Gabriel finds himself grinning as he works his jaw, eating Jack out as best he can with two fingers inside him.

Pulling back again, Gabriel withdraws his fingers and drips more lube on them, taking the moment to drag his eyes down Jack’s trembling frame. There’s a flush running from the tips of his ears down the back of his neck, his hips hitched in the air and thighs spread almost as wide as they’ll go, shaking as Jack’s fist flies up and down his cock. Gabriel can just barely see the reddened head peeking out from between Jack’s fingers, droplets of precome staining the sheets beneath him. Jack’s eyes are closed, his head turned so that his cheek is mashed into the bed, mouth open as he pants and groans at the feel of his own hand.

Gabriel grins wickedly, puts two fingers back against Jack’s entrance but doesn’t push inside, watches in delight as a shudder wracks Jack’s body at the feeling. When Jack realizes Gabe hasn’t slipped back into him, he cracks his eyes open, hand stilling on his own cock.

“W-wha--?” Jack starts to say, but is cut off as Gabriel abruptly pushes his fingers back in, feels the soft clench of Jack’s reddened hole part easily for him. Jack groans and closes his eyes at the sensation, and his hand starts to move again. Gabriel withdraws his fingers just as quickly, leaving them pressed with the lightest pressure against Jack.

This time Jack lifts his head, gets up on one hand so he can turn slightly and glare at Gabriel, hand once again stilling on his dick. “What the fu -- ah!” he exclaims, shoulders dropping back to the bed as Gabriel fucks his fingers into him, grazes his prostate this time, the gland spongy and firm under his fingertip. “Shit, fuck fuck fuck,” Jack gasps, humping back into Gabriel’s hand, touching himself quickly.

As soon as Jack starts jerking himself off again, Gabriel removes his fingers. This time Jack sits up and turns to face Gabriel, frustration evident on his face, cock hanging red and heavy between his thighs. “Gabe, what the fuck are you doing?” he asks, chest moving up and down with his quick, panting breaths.

Gabriel smiles, knows there’s a wicked glint in his eye, relishes the moment Jack registers it. “Don’t want this party over before it’s started, right,  _ querido _ ?” he asks sweetly, voice dripping insincere honey. He laughs as Jack’s brow furrows, moves in closer to the other man, practically manhandles Jack into getting up and straddling his lap, and wraps a hand around Jack’s dick. Jack’s pecs are back in his face -- Gabe is in goddamn heaven. “Every time you touch this,” he says, squeezing the firm, hot flesh and listening to Jack’s startled moan, “I stop touching  _ this _ .” Gabriel brings his other hand around Jack’s back, prods a finger where Jack is hot and wet, sinks it inside once more.

Jack squirms in his lap, clearly struggling between fucking down on Gabriel’s finger or up into his fist now that he knows the rules. “Please, Gabe,” he begs, nearly ruts against Gabriel’s own erection before he stops himself. “Please, come on,” Jack says again, and Gabriel can hear the need threading through his voice, “Don’t tease me like this,  _ fuck _ , please, give me something, I-I need more--!”

Gabriel cuts him off, brings Jack’s face down to kiss the pleas out of his mouth as he shoves two more fingers into him, fucking the three in and out rapidly. Jack’s hips are rutting freely against Gabe’s, his cock brushing up against his abs and Gabriel’s own cock, the heat between them nearly unbearable. Jack’s arms are around Gabriel’s neck, holding on tightly as their tongues twine around one another, Jack’s mouth open and wet against Gabe’s. He’s making small, almost wounded noises as Gabriel continues to fuck him with his fingers, twisting into Jack’s body, brushing over his prostate over and over until Jack breaks the kiss and buries his face in Gabriel’s neck, nearly sobbing as he kisses and nips over the dark skin.

Gabriel presses a fourth finger into Jack, the fit tight, nearly impossible, but he grits his teeth and tucks it in as Jack lets out a low sob against his throat. He’s murmuring something, practically bouncing in Gabriel’s lap as he fucks himself down onto the fingers inside of him, rhythmic and low.

One particular twist of his fingers, and suddenly Gabriel understands what Jack’s saying -- chanting, really -- breath hot and humid between them. 

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” Jack is saying, barely pausing for breath, the flush spreading from his neck down his chest, his nipples tight, silver rings flashing in the light.

Gabriel curses, drags his fingers out of Jack and pushes him back as far as he can, which isn’t that far considering Jack’s arm are clinging around Gabriel’s neck like he’s his last lifeline. “Turn around,  _ querido _ ,” Gabriel says, urging Jack to let go and move down the bed a bit. “I’m gonna give you what you want.”

_ That  _ gets Jack to cooperate, and Gabriel is able to relocate to the head of the bed, sitting up with his back to the wall, legs over the side of the bed and on the floor for leverage. He grabs a condom, tears open the package and rolls it down onto his neglected cock, hissing in a breath, also grabbing the lube and pouring a generous amount into the palm of his hand.

Looking at Jack, Gabriel pats his thigh as he lubes up his cock. “Come here, Jackie,” he says, grins at the other man, teeth sharp and white. “Back to me. Want you to see yourself.” He nods at the mirror on the other wall, watches the realization dawn on Jack’s face that Gabriel has positioned himself perfectly in front of it. “Come ride me,  _ cariño _ .”

“Fuck, Gabe,” Jack says, voice sounding fucked out already. “You’re a bastard, you know that?” He moves though, goes to straddle Gabriel’s thighs, up on his knees as he grasps Gabriel’s cock in one hand.

Gabriel laughs, puts his hands on Jack’s hips. “Yeah,” he says simply, then guides Jack down, down, feels the wide head of his cock snug up against Jack’s hole for just a moment, the pressure intense before it yields, and Gabriel is sliding up and in, into Jack’s slick entrance to where it’s tight and almost too-hot inside. 

“Shit, Jackie, you’re so tight,” he pants, fingers pressing bruises into Jack’s hips, forehead pressed against the nape of Jack’s neck as he lowers himself down onto Gabriel. “So fuckin’ good, feels so fuckin’ hot,” he pants, uses his grip to press Jack further down.

Jack is panting again, taking big gulps of air, fingers scrabbling at Gabriel’s hands on his hips like he isn’t sure if he wants Gabriel to let go or to force him down faster. “Fu--fuck, Gabe! Shit, so good...god, so fucking big, ah --!” Jack is babbling, head lolling back, chest heaving. He keeps going, a slow, inexorable slide down onto Gabriel, trying to open his legs wider over Gabriel’s thick thighs. 

Finally, finally, Jack is all the way down, Gabriel’s balls snug against his ass, both of them panting into the still air of the room. Gabriel looks over Jack’s shoulder, into the mirror, a frisson of satisfaction coursing through him as he takes in Jack, his chest heaving and his cock leaking profusely, thick and standing up against his tight stomach. Gabriel gives Jack a few moments to adjust before he bites the back of Jack’s neck lightly, squeezes his hips and lifts Jack off just a bit before dropping him back down as he thrusts his hips up at the same time, jolting the air out of Jack.

“A-ah! Fuck, Gabe, please!” Jack says, and Gabriel can see his eyes go wide as the fat head of Gabriel’s cock glances off his prostate. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Gabriel breathes into Jack’s ear, biting the lobe lightly. “Work with me here. Fuck yourself on me.” He releases his hold on Jack’s hips, brings his hands up to Jack’s neglected chest, massaging the flesh around his nipples before tugging on the silver rings once more.

Jack groans, throwing his head onto Gabriel’s shoulder as the other man twists his nipples sharply. “Fuck!” he pants, hands flexing on nothing for a moment before settling on Gabriel’s forearms, clenching the firm muscle, hips pistoning up and down as he starts to fuck himself on the thick cock inside him.

“Yeah, Jackie, that’s it,” Gabriel purrs in his ear, once more taking the lobe in his mouth and sucking on it lightly before suddenly biting down. “Yeah, you fucking love this, don’t you?”

He plucks at Jack’s reddened nipples, can feel the flesh turn hot and hard beneath his fingertips. Releasing them briefly, he rubs his hands over Jack’s chest and ribs, petting over the heated skin beneath his palms. He feels Jack’s body shudder in his grip, feels his hole flex and clench around his dick. “You love when I play with your tits,” Gabe says, licking up the column of Jack’s throat.

Jack can only keen, helpless at the onslaught of pleasure radiating from his chest. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Gabriel groans, thrusting his hips up into Jack’s ass, twisting the silver rings in Jack’s nipples. It makes Jack arch, back bending as he tries to chase the sensation. “Fuck, you knew exactly what you were doing when you got these,” Gabriel says, kissing Jack’s neck. “Tried to hide ‘em -- didn’t want anyone to know.” A thought strikes him, suddenly, an epiphany as he glances again at Jack in the mirror. “Except you did want people to know,” he says lowly, delighted when Jack clenches around him, drawing in a breath almost guiltily. “You wore those fucking tight shirts, flaunted your chest as much as you could.” Gabriel pauses, flicks one of Jack’s nipples with his nails, startles a cry out of Jack’s throat. “You might’ve been hiding your secret, but you wanted to be  _ seen _ .” He thrusts up into Jack, bites lightly at his throat before he takes Jack’s chin in one hand, guides his head forward so that he’s looking straight into the mirror. Jack’s eyes are still closed, mouth dropped open with a slight furrow between his brows as he raises and drops his hips, still fucking himself on Gabe.

“Look,  _ cariño _ . I want you to see what only I’m allowed to see.”

Gabriel watches as Jack’s open, just slits of blue at first, focusing on the two of them in the mirror. Suddenly, Jack’s eyes open wider, round and surprised as the flush on his cheeks deepens even more, face bright red as he takes in the spectacle of the two of them, Gabriel’s hands and arms dark and strong, hips still moving in rhythm as Jack’s cock leaks and jerks, more clear fluid dribbling down the length of it as Jack looks at himself.

“Fuck, fuck Gabe,” Jack says, tries to turn his head away, but Gabriel’s grip on his chin won’t let him. “God -- Gabe, please,” he whines, breathless as he stares at himself. Gabriel can see his eyes, the way his pupils have expanded, dark, swallowing up the blue of his gaze. His skin glows with sweat, the silver rings on his chest flashing in the light as he pants for breath. He looks radiant, and Gabriel almost can’t believe he has him on his cock right now. 

“Please what, Jack?” Gabriel asks, angling his hips as he thrusts up to hit Jack’s prostate dead on. Jack stiffens and wails, but he doesn’t look away from his reflection, and Gabriel sees how his cock jerks again, turning a darker shade of red. 

“Ple-please touch me,” Jack sobs out, clenching his fingers again into the meat of Gabriel’s forearms, nails digging crescents in the flesh. “Please, Gabe, I need you to touch me!”

“Of course,  _ cariño _ ,” Gabriel says, like he isn’t melting inside. Jack is so hot and tight around him, Gabriel can hardly believe he’s held out this long while fucking him. He wraps a hand around Jack’s dick, the flesh slick and so fucking warm in his rough palm, and squeezes it roughly before stroking. He keeps thrusting his hips up, over and over again, humping up into Jack’s body while Jack cries out in his lap, fucking himself down onto Gabriel and up into his fist. 

Gabriel watches Jack watch himself in the mirror, a wild grin on his face. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groans, twisting his fist and making Jack cry out. “So fuckin’ beautiful, and I’m the only one who gets to see…”

Gabriel trails off as pleasure overtakes him, heat zipping down his back and pooling at the base of his spine. He grits his teeth, wants -- no,  _ needs _ \-- to hold off for just a bit longer, wants to feel Jack come around him. He speeds up his fist, watches it practically fly over Jack’s cock in the mirror, before glancing up. Gabriel meets Jack’s eyes, sees the depths of arousal and -- and  _ trust _ \-- in that endless blue gaze. He smiles lopsidedly, thrusts his hips up into Jack’s prostate and tightens his fist at the same time as he stares at Jack in the mirror.

“Come for me, Jack,” he says quietly, gasping into Jack’s ear.

Jack comes with a cry, eyes clenching shut for the first time in a while as his cock erupts with lines of white fluid, flying up onto his chest and stomach as Gabriel strokes him through it. Jack clenches almost unbearably tight around his cock, and Gabriel can only thrust once, twice, three times more before he is biting down on the back of Jack’s neck again and groaning through his own orgasm, white fire overtaking his vision as he empties himself into the condom.

He comes back to himself slowly, senses coming back online in increments. Jack is still hot and tight around him, inner walls clenching around Gabriel’s increasingly sensitive cock. He hisses and moves his hands to Jack’s hips, urging him onto the bed and pulling out slowly. Gabriel carefully takes off the condom and disposes of it in the small trashcan next to the bed. 

Jack looks fucked out, chest still rising and falling with panted breaths as he comes down himself. Gabriel can see the beginnings of bruises in the shape of fingers on Jack’s hips, feels a possessive flare shoot through him. He groans and flops down onto the bed next to Jack, being careful not to fall on him. He rolls onto his side, watches Jack’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he slowly regains control over his breathing. 

After a few minutes, Jack’s eyes finally open once more, and he glances almost shyly at Gabriel before looking away, a brilliant smile breaking out across his face.

“What’s got you so happy, _mi sol_?” Gabriel asks, a laugh bubbling up in his voice. He reaches out a hand, arms feeling a little syrupy in the aftermath, tweaks a nipple just to hear Jack’s breath catch.  

“No specific reason,” Jack says, still smiling. He looks back at Gabriel. “Just really glad it was you who saw me.”


End file.
